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It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it’s mostly me, but it’s partly you too. I mean, come on. You didn’t really think this would last forever did you? Haha…ha… Oh, you did. Um…

Well, it was great while it lasted. Really, we had some good times. You showed me things I never thought I’d see. The pyramids? I mean, wow! Amazing! And Luxor, snorkeling in the Red Sea, the Nile, ancient mosques, towering obelisks. I will never forget my time with you, even if I lived as long as you have, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

You were there for me when I needed you most. When I thought I’d have my first baby in the backseat of a taxicab, you were traffic-free for the first time in history. My little Finn will always be my Egyptian kiddo and someday he’ll come back to see you. You’ve been great to Patrick. He loved teaching here and had a really fantastic experience. You had a wonderful church branch waiting for us that welcomed us into a whole new type of family. Cairo, I love you, I really do. I think a part of me always will.

It’s just that, well, I’ve found someone else. Someone who is going to treat me better. Someone who offers quicker, cheaper flights to family, who doesn’t transport raw meat to grocery stores by tying it on the roof racks of taxicabs, who isn’t on a mission to flatten me everytime I cross the street. Notre Dame can offer me a lot that you can’t, starting with FDA oversight.

In June, I’m going to pack up my bags and leave you for South Bend, perhaps never to return. I know you’ll get through this, you’ll carry on like you’ve done for thousands of years. Really, I’m just a small drop in your vast ocean. The Nile will continue to flow north, the donkeys will continue to pull their carts of carrots and small boys down the street, the call to prayer will still waft over the city several times a day. New expatriates will come and go. You won’t even miss me, really.

So let’s enjoy the time that we have left. We’ll laugh together, we’ll cry together. We’ll make each other think. Let’s make some memories to cherish each other with.

I’m glad we had this little talk. I think we’ll both come out better for having known each other.

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10 Responses to “Breaking Up is Hard to Do”

Hey Girl, it’s me, South Bend. What’s taking you so long, girl? I’ve missed you so much, we’ve got wonderful weather scheduled for June, also, a whole bunch of you’re friends want to see you again. There’s even a new friend, Sarah, who can’t wait to finally meet the people she’s heard so many stories about. Mel, we got it all for you, just waiting. The housing market’s down, you’ll be sure to find a place real cheap. I bet you Kay will have fresh bread with home-made strawberry jam for you. And I know you’ll miss that Cairo. But trust me, you’ll love it here. Besides, if you really want, we’ll throw some sand from the dunes at you to recreate a dust-storm, or we’ll pretend the dunes are pyramids that you just can’t go inside of. You can ride in the back seat of Jim’s car, and he’s probably just as crazy as the taxi cab drivers. So don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll take care of everything, and I’ll be waiting everyday, missing you. So hurry up!

Melissa, glad to hear you guys are all well…I love reading your blog, it’s so entertaining…and the last one I think was one of my favorites! that’s all…just thought I would comment and say hello! 🙂 Loves from us!

Dear Melissa,
Howdy y’all! Glad to hear y’all are heading back home. Don’t forget me when you’re back in Yankee South Bend. My sandy beaches, hot weather, Mexican neighbors, second language, and crazy drivers will bring back any memories of Cairo you want to recollect. And word ’round these parts is that your mom makes the best chicken enchiladas and your dad the best grilled fajitas, with actual FDA approved meat. And not the kind that walks itself to the market. So head on down and we’ll give you a real cowboy welcome.